


Nine Things Commander Cullen Noticed about Evelyn Trevelyan

by ro_shepard



Series: Love When You Least Expect It [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-12 08:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_shepard/pseuds/ro_shepard
Summary: During the post-Corypheus celebration, Cullen has a moment to reflect on some things he noticed about the Lady Inquisitor...Her Hair.Her Eyes.Her Lips.Her Curves.Her Scars.Her Responsiveness.Her Enjoyment of Dirty Talk. (E rated chapter)Her Choice.Her Love of Tea and Tiny Cakes.





	1. The Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> I never expected to enjoy Dragon Age Inquisition as much as I did. I never expected to fall for Cullen Rutherford. Yet, here we are. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Moodboard for my Evelyn Trevelyan: https://spectre-ro.tumblr.com/post/168372488620/heres-a-mobile-created-mood-board-for-my

Cullen watched the Inquisitor as she moved throughout the great hall, playing the gracious host as Skyhold held its victory ball. It had only been three days since their victory over Corypheus and no one had time to rest. Even as Evelyn had returned among the cheering crowd, he knew she was exhausted. She had barely left his grateful embrace before she was whisked away by Josephine. Nobles and dignitaries, letters and proposals, all demanded the Inquisitor's attention to arrange an immediate celebration. 

That was the price that had to be paid for being in love with Thedas' savior, the Herald of Andraste.

Evelyn was naturally a captivating woman, able to put anyone at ease, yet knew how to stand her ground and command respect. She was strong and fierce, loving and kind, and beautiful... Maker was she beautiful. With skin warm and earthy, eyes dark brown, big and vibrant, often lined thinly with kohl, hair dark and coiled, often banded loosely with strands that framed her face, a smile full and genuine, the likes of Evelyn Trevelyan were sights rarely seen in south Ferelden, where he hailed. Naturally captivating indeed and, with the addition of being the Inquisitor, Evelyn always seemed to be giving of herself to others. And now, even as she mingled from table to table, listening and conversing with guests and her inner circle, he had long decided that she was worth it. She was worth waiting patiently for as she fulfilled the role that was thrust upon her.

His warm, golden brown eyes trailed as she embraced the spymaster, inching ever closer to the closed door of her personal quarters. She never liked the ceremony of saying goodbye, preferring to just slip away without fuss or fanfare. Earlier in the evening, he had mentioned not wanting to claim much of her time, knowing that she had a full night of entertaining. Now, as his love moved to retire, the temptation of finally spending time with her alone was too much to ignore. He strolled casually between the long tables, toward the Inquisitor's throne, not wanting to draw too much attention. His voice called out softly as Evelyn's hand fell upon the handle.

"You managed to slip away," Cullen noted, the corner of his mouth curling into his crooked, knowing grin.

Evelyn smiled to herself at the voice of her lover. She turned to face him, then needing a moment to take in the view. Tall, broad, and handsome, his fair and golden presence highlighted in a halo of soft candlelight. "Yes," she answered quietly, offering him a teasing smile of her own.

"Hmm," Cullen whispered low, stepping closer, "I thought that I might claim more of your attention after all." His smirk was matched with an interested gaze as he lifted a brow.

Butterflies erupted in Evelyn's stomach as she looked over the handsome commander's face, blushing as she knew that _he knew_  she could not resist  _that_ look. She lifted a brow of her own, a silent moving of pawns on a chessboard, and returned his interest. "I'm glad you're here."

An amused rumble escaped from Cullen as he closed the gap between them even more, "Good." 

As he reached out for her, a playful look fell upon Evelyn's face and she reached behind her, opening the door to her chambers. They quietly slipped inside the darkened corridor, graced only by a series of crackling flames. Cullen watched as Evelyn ascended the stairs in front of him, noting the delicious sway of her hips. This woman had given so much to the world and tonight, he was going to worship her like she deserved. He would faithfully celebrate some of the wonderful things he had noticed about Evelyn Trevelyan.


	2. Her Hair

When they finally reached Evelyn's room, Cullen reached for the clasp of his mantle, removing it from his shoulders and draped it over the sofa. He started to work at the straps of his armor when he caught Evelyn reaching for the top of her head.

Cullen was always fascinated when Evelyn took down her hair. 

Typically, her deep brown locks were always bound in a pile with leather or golden cords, loose, curled stands framing the high cheeks of her face. He knew that as a warrior, she had grown used to hiding her tresses away, but he appreciated the moments where she indulged in the opportunity to set them free.

The first night he spent in her quarters, he noticed just how versatile her hair really was.

He had caught her after a bath, after a long journey back from the Val Royeaux, a cloth wrapped around her frame. Beads of water still clung to her skin as she stood by the fire to dry and warm. The sight before him was enchanting.

He had seen Evelyn naked before, having ravished her in his own quarters, but it was not the allure of stripping away the teasing, simple cloth that captivated him. He already knew that in the sun, her dark brown curls hid undertones of reds and sienna, but now it was her hair, radiating like a lone sunflower, blooming full and free, that drew his stare. The corner of her lips pulled into a knowing grin and he took that as an invitation to move closer. Words failed him as his eyes took her in, but finally he asked if he could touch her, her hair, and she nodded to him and showed him how. 

He could not slip his fingers through as he could with his own - her coils were too tight. Her hair was soft under his touch and it smelled heavenly and sweet, much like the rest of her. He could not say for sure, but he had probably explored her hair for at least half an hour... 

Cullen smiled at the memory and pulled off his bracers, his eyes watching as Evelyn removed the last band. With a shake of her head and a few fluffs with her hand, her tresses fell into place, gracing down to her shoulders. She turned to face him and her brow furrowed slightly with amused curiosity.

"What?" Evelyn inquired softly.

Cullen straightened, unsure of to what she was referring, "I beg your pardon?" 

"You're staring."

"Ah," Cullen exhaled, his gaze smoldered a bit more as he tossed his bracers and gloves over to join his mantle. "Apologies, _my lady_ ," he purred, smirking as her cinnamon cheeks rosed, "but I find it utterly hard not to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's visual cue: In this story, my Evelyn has hair similar to Zazie Beetz's.


	3. Her Eyes

Cullen pulled off the remainder of his armor and cocked his head to the side. Evelyn was still blushing from his earlier compliment, but she finally looked up at him through those long, black, lashes. 

Those eyes.

Maker did he love the way she looked at him with those dark umber eyes. Her eyes were so dark that, in the beginning, he found himself getting lost whenever he was the subject of her gaze. His words would betray him and left him feeling like a bumbling idiot whenever she would ask about non-Inquisition things. She would simply continue to stare at him with kind interest as he gathered himself, eventually telling her about the Order, Kirkwall, or about his childhood and his family. 

She had been fairly quiet when it came to sharing her own tale, but her eyes told the story of a woman who was thrust into power, of someone who knew loss and pain, yet despite it all, still managed to endure. In the right company, her eyes would give brighten with mirth as she listen to Varric's tales, narrow in mischief as she and Sera plotted in secret, or were sharp with focus and determination as she trained with Cassandra and Bull. With him though, her eyes would sometimes twinkle with temptation, beckoning him closer, like they were now.

He swallowed at her sultry stare and stepped toward her, one hand falling to the curve of her hip, while the other reached to caress the side of her face, then slipping to cradle the back of her neck. His eyes never left hers as a thousand thoughts occupied him. In this moment of peace, which had been a year and a half in the making, as he looked at Evelyn now, the elation he felt was also met with the thoughts of all the times he nearly lost her. 

He never told her, but since the night Haven was lost, the nightmare that haunted him the most was when they had found her on the mountain trail, nearly frozen, injured, and delirious. He had rushed to pull off his mantle to wrap around her, her voice softly calling his name then, calling him a desire demon in her incoherent ramblings. He recalled peering down into her fading brown jewels, assuring her that he was real and that she was safe, as he fought back tears. He pleaded with her, with those umber eyes as he carried her back to camp, but they glazed over and shut as she fainted in his arms. He could not lose her, not like this, not on his watch. He begged Andraste for mercy, for a chance to see those eyes filled with light and life again...

"What are you thinking about?"

Cullen blinked, his focus returning to his love, and his hand squeezed her hip tighter, grounding him back to reality. He shook his head.

"Are you with me?" Evelyn asked, her eyes wide with concern, her hand rose to caress the stubble at his cheek.

Cullen leaned into her touch and nodded, "I am. I was thinking about how scared I was the night we found you in the Frostbacks. I thought that I had lost you forever. Maker, Evelyn, there were so many times I thought I would never gaze into your eyes again, yet, here we are." His voice was soft, grateful.

"Having you to come back to helped," Evelyn whispered, placing her hands on his chest. She inhaled his scent of wood and leather. "Cullen..."

Cullen watched as her eyes fell down to his lips, her plea fueling the fire present in his veins. As he moved to grant her request, those dark brown eyes closed in anticipation...


	4. Her Lips

_Full?_

That hardly seemed sufficient.

_Luscious?_

_Inviting?_

_Tempting?_

Yes, Cullen conceded, each pass over her lips a prayer of gratitude and devotion. He needed more.

He had been drawn to her lips when they had first met. Cassandra had led her, hesitant and unnerved to the war table to meet the Inquisition's advisers. Despite all that she had been through at the concave, being detained and interrogated, fighting demons, and closing the breach, Evelyn still managed to offer a kind smile to her new colleagues.

That had been... unexpected. With the stress of trying to reign in rogue Templar and mage factions, smiles were rare in Haven. Especially those genuine enough to charm an entire room. 

It was also unexpected how, over the course of a few weeks at Haven, his thoughts had drifted from appreciating the grin that often graced her lips, to, after recalling his lack of vows on physical temptations, wondering what it would be like to kiss them.

It startled him at first, noticing her _in that way_ , but he staved off those desires for the sake of his commitment the Inquisition. As Commander, he could afford no distractions. She was also the _Herald of Andraste,_ and a noblewoman of a proud family line, two damning strikes against him, a man with no claims, and any pursuit of sampling those seemingly soft lips.

However, during that almost alone moment on the ramparts, in Skyhold, when she had confessed her own interest in him, the iron grip on his self control slacked. He had to know what she tasted like and so, he kissed her.

It was rushed and eager, like a starving man sampling a meal after a long fast. After his time in the Order, in the Circle, and then in Kirkwall, he greedily took too much too soon. After months of secret pining, he was finally enjoying the physical wonders of her mouth, and quite simply, he indulged in her.  

Since that moment, after many kisses stolen or freely given, innocent or heated, short or lingered, he vowed to savor each encounter of those sweet, ripe lips, whether they were against his own, or trailing down his body to render pure bliss below...

A small mew escaped from her as he pulled her closer and the softness of her mouth parted, allowing him to take more, and he did. However, Evelyn soon took control and  slipped his bottom lip between her teeth, pulling a throaty groan from him as she held him captive. He heard her chuckle wickedly before freeing him, her lips dragging across his jaw and over to an ear. She whispered hotly, her mouth brushing slightly against his flesh, as she murmured all of the deliciously lewd things she wanted to do to him. 

Maker's breath, her heated lips and words branded into his skin like hot irons, but he would not have it. Not tonight. Tonight was about him doing things to her. 

"Evelyn," Cullen breathed, her promises of things to come making it difficult for him to think beyond the ache in his loins, "Maker knows how much I love to see your lips wrapped around me, but tonight is about you. You've given us all so much, let me take care of you," he reasoned, not fully knowing how he was able to speak at the moment. 

Evelyn gave a sultry chuckle and nipped at the junction of his neck and shoulder, then sooth away the sting with open, wet kisses.

"But, Cullen..." she teased, biting a corner of her mouth. 

"No," Cullen replied with his commander's voice, warding off her trickery.

He watched as her mouth closed in protest and brought his hand up to her cheek, dragging a broad thumb over her pout.

"Evelyn..." Cullen whispered, though his tone was still edged with his field voice. He slowly drug his hands over the front of her bodice, cupping her through the leather. "Undress for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely happy with this chapter, but for now, it is what it is.


	5. Her Curves

Cullen felt the tremble of her body as he uttered his command. He knew she would. In their private affairs, Evelyn was  _very_ responsive to his authoritative tone. Often, only a word or two, or perhaps a look was enough to have her willing and eager, but for tonight, dominance was not what he had planned. She quirked a dark brow, but was obedient to his request, turning away with a smirk as she removed her scarf.

He hurriedly reached for the back of his collar, pulling his shirt over his head and adding it to the pile across the room. The hearth's fire warmed his pearly skin, its light casting shadows over his sculpted torso. Ever aware of his appearance (though certainly not as vain as Dorian) he smoothed his hair back into place, his deep amber eyes soaking in the expanse of chestnut skin coming into view. Maker take him, he loved the sight of her body being revealed to him.

It would be unfairly simple to say that he had noticed Evelyn's curvaceous figure early in their acquaintanceship. Of course he had, as had many others, but along with her tantalizing endowments, he had also noticed the strength and femininity that accompanied them. In Haven, he had observed her as she sparred with Cassandra, Bull, and occasionally, to change things up, Blackwall and Krem. Even in Skyhold, her bouts continued, as she challenged her body to adhere to the title bestowed upon her.

Despite her nobility, Evelyn was from a warrior family and had been versed in the sword and shield as she had with pleasantries and courtesies. She trained almost as much as he did (which was still less than Seeker Cassandra), and her efforts reflected in her toned arms and legs. Though she was strong and muscular, she was not bulky. Her physique was not as tall and defined as Cassandra's, nor was it as long and lean as Sera's. He found that her voluptuous form was perfectly... Evelyn.

Cullen followed the slender slope of her neck as it planed out to a shoulder and he swallowed, knowing the sweetness of that particular juncture. The muscles of her back flexed as she shrugged out of her bodice, carelessly dropping it to the floor below. Her hands went to the front of her hips, but she paused to turn slightly, the soft, sexy curve of her bust exposed to him, as she gave a suggestive look over her shoulder. 

"Don't," Cullen warned with a low growl. His hunger for her apparent as was the bulge in his pants.

"Don't what, Cullen?" Evelyn returned, her dark gaze drug slowly from his crotch, up the fine trail of dark blond hair to his chest, finally meeting his eyes.

Cullen stepped forward, reaching to pull her against his chest. His lips fell to her neck where he adorned her with seared kisses, licks, and bites. "Don't tease me, Evelyn," he murmured against her skin. His left hand held her firmly in place while his right traced over the snake of her bicep. "I've been waiting patiently to get my hands on you and your wondrous body, for days, while Josie and Leliana carted you off for this and that..." His mouth moved over toward an ear, " _Very patiently_ ," he emphasized his point by grinding his hips against her backside. The hand that had been stroking her arm moved around to her chest, squeezing a handful of her. His calloused palm grazed over her taunt nipples and she inhaled sharply, leaning into him more as he continued to fondle her.

"But my love..." His breath and tongue were hot against the shell of her ear, "I'm afraid my patience has run out," Cullen confessed, sliding his wandering hand down her stomach to the ties of her pants. He expertly loosed them and pushed the soft leather over the flare of her hips. He stepped back then, as he continued to work the material down her shapely thighs, kneeling behind her as the favorite, of all of her curves, was finally revealed. He nipped at her ass, her plush and spankable ass, soliciting a surprised yelp from her, the first of many more to come. His hands rushed to pull down her pants the rest of the way, helping her step out of them before returning his hands to her. He kissed the side of her hip, stroking her smooth skin, then turned her around to face him. 

"Evelyn..." Cullen sighed, sitting back onto his heels to admire her naked form, "you are so beautiful."

Evelyn gave a small smile as she peered down at the man she loved, willingly on his knees before her. She lazily ran her fingers through his thick, golden curls. "You always say that."

Cullen stilled, his face deathly serious, "I mean it every time."

"Even with my scars?" Evelyn asked, surprisingly shy and delicate. 

Cullen raised a brow. He knew she was self-conscious about some of her scars, scars he had not noticed until she had made a big deal about them. Now he loved them, as he loved all of her. He rose to his feet and kissed her.

" _Especially_ with your scars," he said, bending to scoop her into his arms. "Shall I remind you?" he asked, taking a few big strides and laying her down on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was going for an M rating, but I think we're going to cross into E territory. I blame Cullen, who I totally made into an ass man.


	6. Her Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably one of the most personal things I've ever written in a story.

The muscles of Cullen's upper body flexed with the shift of his weight as he crawled onto the bed after her. He was ravenous - that much was apparent from the hungered stare of his amber eyes. He watched as Evelyn inched back toward her pillows and followed her closely, keeping his hardened body near the warmth of hers. He was a lion, finally cornering his lioness after a long evening of appearances and formalities.

Cullen brought a large hand to her hip, so light against her tawny hue, and halted her movement. She yielded by pulling him into a kiss, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. His own hands slid along her spine, the pads of his fingers tracing over the grooves of a scar - that particular one reflective of her first encounter with a Fereldan Great Bear.

He had scolded her for that, coming short of calling her daft for recklessly endangering herself and her party. That had been when they were still stationed in Haven, early in their acquaintanceship, while they were still learning to trust each other. He had been startled by his angered outburst at the war table, but that was before Corypheus and the Frostbacks, and well before that first high dragon. With his relationship with Evelyn, he had learned to manage his concerns.

He nibbled at her jaw and his lips brushed over another of her scars. That particular one being earned when her own shield bashed into her face from the force of deflecting a Wyvern's tale. As one hand smoothed from her back to her chest, he kneaded a breast, teasing a nipple with varied pinches. His mouth continues to trail over her neck, shoulders, arms, anywhere he could access with ease. He found more scars, big and small, but he knew them all now and he also knew their origins, which Evelyn would proudly share.

The first time he had seen her naked, he had hardly noticed them, he had been so transfixed by seeing  _her_ bare before him that a lot of exploration and foreplay had been missed. In subsequent encounters, he had noticed her scars, mostly when he held her close in bed. To him, her marks were not flaws or imperfections, but additional parts of her as beautiful and sexy as her eyes and smile.

As proud as Evelyn was of her fighting nature, there were scars that she was more timid about and he had come to learn that they carried more psychological weight than in appearance. His touch drifted along her torso, over the faint streaks of silver at her sides. The same faint lines adorned her hips and rear. She always tensed for a moment when his attentions were there, but he was grateful that she no longer pushed him away. That had taken time...

***

_He had been idly stroking the plane of her stomach when his attention drifted to a series of marks under her navel and at her side. His fingers feathered over them curiously, but her hand moved swiftly to close over his._

_"Cullen, don't," Evelyn said, pushing his hand aside. She folder her hands over her stomach, blocking his access to her._

_"I... sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asked and when he did not get a response, he propped himself up onto an elbow to face her. "Evelyn? Are you alright?"_

_Evelyn cast her eyes away from his concerned stare, choosing to focus on the patch of golden hair adorning her lover's chest. "I didn't always look like this. Even coming from a family of fighters, I was not always conditioned. My childhood was... difficult."_

_He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly as she continued to speak._

_"I was... quite plump growing up and when you are your family's only daughter, there are certain expectations to be had among nobles." Evelyn sighed, "With my brothers all part of the Order, I remember my parents entertaining suitors for me when I was still very young, hoping to use me to forge alliances and better position our family against rivals._

_Strangers would come from across the Thedas, polite on the surface, always playing the game, telling me that I had a pretty face, but they were concerned about my size. They would admonish my parents and I about my enjoyment of sweets and tiny cakes, tell me that if I was smaller that I would be perfect. That I was not pretty enough for their sons." She scoffed, "You would think that money would be blind, but nobles are often vain and petty."_

_Evelyn paused for a moment, her fingers drifting over the shallow lines of her stomach. "These marks are from my childhood, from growing too much, too wide and too fast, for my skin to handle. They are permanent reminders that I am not good enough for that world."_

_He was grateful that she was not looking at him, for he knew that he was staring at her in disbelief. The fact that this woman, revered as the Herald of Andraste and the love of his life,  had felt that she was not good enough was outlandish to him. He remained silent as she took a deep breath._

_"Eventually, when I was twelve, I begged my parents to let me fight, like my older brothers, and I was fortunate enough that they acquiesced. I practiced everyday in sword, staff, axe, and shield. I excelled and a grip in my hand became second nature. No longer was my worth tied to my appearance, yet as I further challenged myself and with adolescence, my body changed both in strength and as a woman." She gave a small laugh, "By the time I was seventeen, suitors were back in line at that point, thought hesitant about my interest in combat, but they all wanted my hand and wrote poetry of my blossomed beauty. But, all I cared about was fighting and defending those who could not defend themselves. Yet..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "yet these scars of inadequacy stayed with me."_

_"Evelyn," his voice was gentle and he chanced placing a hand on the ball of her shoulder. He offered a soft smile as her eyes rose to meet his. "Words cannot express how beautiful you are to me. From the way you show compassion and mercy, to the way you tolerate Orlesian nobility, to the way your purse your lips when you hear one of Josephine's political plans..." He caressed her arm. "...to the way your nose crinkles when you laugh at one of Varric's tales, to the way you teach recruits close quarter techniques -that you even take the time to do so- to your scars, all of them, visible or not, you are beautiful Evelyn Trevelyan, and you are more than enough." His lips curled into a crooked grin, "And, you should know that I enjoy tiny cakes myself, the ones with sweetberries and cream are my favorite."_

_Evelyn laughed, her smile lighting up his chest, and she leaned in to kiss him, both ignoring the salty taste from fallen tears._

***

"This is new," Cullen remarked, the warmth of his mouth pulling up from the curve of her breast. A wandering thumb grazed over a new mark on her hip.

"Corypheus' dragon," Evelyn sighed, closing her eyes as her lover restarted his teasing kisses, down her navel and the border of her curls.

"I see," Cullen mused, arching a mischievous brow as he settled himself between her thighs, "you will have to share that tale later..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me? This story has been an experiment for sure. Next chapter is short and will be up soon!


	7. Her Responsiveness

A musician knows their instrument.

Intimately. 

They know how to hold it, what to pluck, press, pull, and in perfect timing. They know how much pressure and force to apply in order to coax forth a sweet, hypnotic melody. That knowledge comes with time, patience, and the will to be an obedient student. A musician, a truly dedicated musician, practices at every opportunity, noticing how the instrument responds to their touch and focus, adjusting or maintaining accordingly.

Despite being a soldier and the general of the Inquisitions forces, Commander Cullen Rutherford was a musician and Evelyn Trevelyan was his preferred instrument.

For nearly a year, whenever his duties allowed for a moment of free time, he would focused his passion for learning on her - what she enjoyed, what she disliked, what she wanted, what she needed, and what she was too inhibited to ask. He learned about these personal preferences by the nature of her response... Maker did she ever respond.

It was shortly after their first kiss when he noticed that he could make the Inquisitor blush with a glance, a faint, pointed look in her direction with his light brown eyes. The color would be even more pronounced if his left eyebrow lifted ever-so-slightly. A smirk at the corner of his stubbled, scarred lip could falter her train of thought, causing her poised and definite words to tumble clumsily, just as much as his own. And, while he enjoyed tormenting Evelyn in the seclusion of the war council, Josephine was not as amused by his antics as he was.

As their relationship continued to develop, he discovered that a brush of his fingers on a clothed arm could cause a shiver, goosebumps if contact was made with her bare skin. The heat and whisper of his breath, anywhere, generated a quiver with a small, yearning moan. The right word, uttered with the right tone could ignite a fire in her endless eyes. If his kiss was deep enough,  _demanding_ enough, his love would respond with a whimper through flushed lips, a twist of her body into his own, a hungered plea for more. These chords he plucked when there was a little more privacy to be had.

Cullen enjoyed learning all of Evelyn's involuntary reactions to his orchestrations, but his favorite came from the focused and, at times, unrelenting stroke of his tongue and the precision of his probing fingers. That was what made Evelyn  _sing_. Every note, every mew, gasp, and sigh. Every pant, every moan, shout, and cry. The breathy groan of his name from her parted lips, the pressure of her strong thighs against his ears, all were a crescendo to their private symphony of love and pleasure. As long as she continued to respond, he would continue to study, learn, and play on.

Evelyn sunk back into her mattress, the back of a hand flopping lazily against her forehead. Her satisfied pants fast and furious from her chest. 

"Maker, Cullen..." Thoughts and speech were difficult as she closed her eyes, trying to recover from her commander's skilled mouth.

Cullen smirked as he gathered to his knees, sliding off his breeches in the process. "Yes, my love?" He teased with a smirk, his hair disheveled and his body flushed and hardened from witnessing her release. 

Evelyn cracked open an eye, hearing the confident smugness of his tone. She gave a delirious laugh, "You're a wicked, wicked man."

Cullen arched a brow, "I can stop of you'd like. Recite a chant for forgiveness?"

Evelyn quickly propped up into her elbows, her dark hair disordered and her eyes fiery with need. "Don't you dare!"

Cullen chuckled low and deep, bringing himself between her legs, his arousal signaling what he wanted next. He took himself in hand and teased her still-sensitive nub.

"Tell me what you want, Evelyn. I want to hear it."

Evelyn wiggled her hips, trying to gain more friction against him. 

"Command me, Evelyn," he said, stroking himself against her opening. 

And so, she did. 


	8. Her Enjoyment of Dirty Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't quite full-blown explicit, but it's pretty darn close.

Cullen closed his eyes and leaned his head back, unable to hold back the low, primal grunt of satisfaction. His hands, fingers spread, gripped Evelyn's hips harder as he pushed further inside of her wet heat. He was not blessed with the ability to express himself with eloquent words or witty analogies, but the sensation of burying himself inside of his love felt... more than good.

_Definitely more than good._

Every time he joined with Evelyn, it felt as if every nerve in his body was electrified by a lingering current of lightning, heightening his sense of physical pleasure and need. The feeling of being surrounded by her was pure energy in his veins, creating a hunger that could only be satiated by  _her_. The more she reacted to him, in these intimate moments, the stronger the flow of energy became, and the more satisfying the release. 

Cullen leaned forward, the taunt muscles of his body weighing down on top of the woman beneath him. The heat of both of their bare forms radiating like two burning stars. His stubbled cheek nuzzled against her jawline as he began to rock his hips back and forth, his strokes gaining ground deeper and deeper. His amber eyes glanced up to her face as he hilted, fully inside of her. This was one of his favorite moments, when he her face transformed from a needful plea to sweet, fulfilled ecstasy. The moment where they both realized, again and again, how exquisitely they fit together. 

He watched as her lips slowly parted and her head tilt back, exposing her throat to him, a shaky moan indicating her delight. He brought his lips to her neck and the scruff of his beard scratched against a particularly tender spot. His downward strokes became longer, the tip of him nearly exposed before driving back inside of her warmth.

"Maker Evelyn... you feel incredible..." He sucked at her earlobe, reveling the sounds of her gasps as the smack of his hips became more sharp and focused. "I've waited so patiently to celebrate with you. Do you like this, Evelyn? Do you enjoy feeling me deep inside of you?"

Evelyn's eyes opened and her teeth dragged almost painfully over her bottom lip, "Cullen," she pleaded. 

"Do you?" Cullen repeated, slamming himself hard against her. These were obvious rhetorical questions, but Cullen had noticed that Evelyn, noble and elegant Evelyn Trevelyan, loved being teased with dirty talk. He had surprised himself by how well he took to indulging that particular interest, both in and out of the bedroom.

"Don't be shy, my love, I know how our more  _candid_ conversations excites you," Cullen whispered hotly into her ear. Her body had given him the answer already, but he wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it. He stopped his movement.

"Ev?"

"Yes," Evelyn confessed to him, drunk with need, "I love how you feel." She wrapped her hands across her lover's back.

"Mmm, I know you do. I can feel it... how wet you are for me."

She whimpered at that, a sound that roused his lustful appetite and Cullen lifted his head to peer into his lover's eyes. He began to move his hips again, increasing his pace, but still controlled.

He brought a hand up, his thumb lightly tracing around the full plump of her lips. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? To spread your legs and bury myself inside of your tight cunt?" 

His honey eyes held her gaze as she shivered and cooed her pleasure for him. The hand at her lips slipped to hold the base of her head and he held her firmly, to watch him. To watch him watching her as they immersed themselves in shared passion. Her moans turned to gasps and sighs as her fingertips dug into the muscles of his back. 

"Yes," he groaned, "let me hear how much you enjoy taking me."

With his seductive encouragement, Evelyn couldn't help the sultry sounds that filled the room as he claimed her body, "Cullen I'm... I'm...don't stop..."

Cullen picked up one of her legs and hoisted it over his shoulder, wanting to gain more ground inside of her. He noted the quickening of her breath as her hands gripped tightly over the bed's coverings. 

"That's it, Ev, let me see you. Let me feel you quiver over my cock." He swirled his waist, hitting her at a different angle, which became her undoing. With a shout she unraveled over him. He clenched his teeth at the sensation, fighting back his own orgasm despite the feeling of her tormentingly constricting around him. He was not quite finished with her yet.

Cullen sat back onto his knees and ran a hand through his hair, pushing his loosened locks out of his eyes. He regarded over her, the expanse of her rich sepia skin, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she caught her breath. He loved seeing her in these moments, these private moments of pure, relaxed euphoria.

These moments were when he found her the most beautiful.

Suddenly, he was on his back, his eyes wide with shock at the quick turn of tables, and a smug smirk pulled at his scarred lip. He looked up at her, her brown eyes dark and teasing as she placed her hands onto his stomach, finding purchase amidst the trail of golden hair. She lowered onto him until he had fully disappeared within her.

No, it was this. _These_ moments were when he found her the most beautiful. _Oh, Sweet Maker_...

"Take what you will," he said to her, smoothing his hands along her outer thighs, then over to join hers on his torso. He interlaced their fingers, bracing his forearms in support as she began to ride him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be short, but hopefully still fulfilling and sweet.


	9. Her Choice

Cullen felt a tremble against his chest. The crisp air of night ghosting through the starlight room prickled at their exposed skin. For being so high in the mountains, the climate at Skyhold was a fairly comfortable temperament. The days and nights were cool, not unbearably cold, much like a Fereldan autumn where layers of cotton and wool would suffice. He was used to a cool bite in the air, preferred it actually, but as he felt Evelyn shiver again in her slumber, he remembered that she was not from south Thedas. 

Not wanting to risk her waking (or catching a chill), Cullen opened his eyes to the stilled room and quietly sat up, reached for the mass of blankets and furs that had piled on the foot of the bed. He gently rearranged them at the base and pulled them up to cover their forms. As he drew them up to Evelyn's shoulders, he settled back behind her, carefully placing an arm around her waist. She shifted slightly in his embrace, her body finally relaxing from the warmth of the coverings. He had hoped that sleep would return quickly to him, but as he nuzzled his nose against her hair, inhaling her sweet scent, a single, puzzling question entered his mind.

_How did this happen?_

More specifically,  _how did I come to lie in bed, victorious in war, with the woman I love?_

His thoughts soon spiraled out of control as his fingertips aimlessly circled over the smooth curvature of her underbust. 

_After the Circle, after my life as a Knight-Captain, after Meredith and Kirkwall, how could Andraste favor someone like me with a treasure such as this? Maker... after all the pain, the torture, the addiction... how am I worthy?_

Cullen had been a devout man ever since he joined the Order, pledging himself to the Maker and Andraste for whatever calling they had, though his leap of blind faith to the Inquisition had unsettled him. Three years ago, when he first agreed to command the Inquisition's forces, he had no idea what to expect trying to patch a truce between mages and Templars. Never in his dreams could he have seen the fall of the conclave, the Chantry in shambles, and another woman, the Herald of Andraste, rise to save the entirety of Thedas. 

But, all of that happened, and Evelyn Trevelyan, of noble birth, whose family originated seemingly so far from Honnleath, loved him.  _Chose_ him, even among all that Thedas had to offer in terms of suitors and arrangements, she still chose him. 

How was he worthy?

He looked at Evelyn as she slept on her side, making out the curves of her figure underneath the furs. He paused listening to the soft pattern of her breath, the arm at her waist rising and falling in sync. He leaned his head down to kiss the ball of her shoulder in silent, grateful appreciation. He was surprised when tears slid from the tip of his nose, falling onto her skin. His breath caught in his throat, his emotions bubbling to the surface. He pulled away, not wanting to disturb his love from her long, overdue rest. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Cullen?" Evelyn asked quietly, her tone still laced with the twilight of sleep.

 Maker, he woke her.

"Are you alright?"  she continued, turning over to face him. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Cullen inhaled sharply and shook his head, "No. No, not a nightmare. I am alright. Go back to sleep, Evelyn. I did not mean to wake you." 

Evelyn lifted a brow in question, "Then what is it?"

"I... was... just thinking about everything and how much I love you." Cullen said quietly, leaning to kiss her gingerly on her forehead. He hoped that would appease her.

Evelyn was not quite convinced that was all to the story, but decided not to interrogate her love. If there was one thing she had learned about her commander, was that he would divulge his thoughts when he was ready. She returned a kiss on his stubbled cheek. "I love you too, Cullen."


	10. Her Love of Tea and Tiny Cakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end of this tale. Thank you for the kudos and comments! This story was a little different for me. Originally, the intent was for each chapter to be 100-200 in length, but well, here we are close to 7k words. Ah well... I hope that you enjoyed it!

Cullen peered over the top of his report at the sound of rustling covers coming from the bed. He had risen for the day an hour ago, slipping into a pair of trousers and procuring some breakfast from the kitchens. He brought a tray up for Evelyn and busied himself with inventory reports while she continued to sleep. Now that she was waking, he couldn't help but stare in fascination, their first morning together without threat from an old, darkspawn god.

He watched her, from the chaise, as she sat up and shielded her eyes from the morning sun, giving up the cause to stretch her muscles, her fingertips reaching for the ceiling. She was still naked from the night before, and his gaze traveled appreciatively over her figure. She gave a satisfied mew and smoothed the dark curls from her face. 

"Good morning," Cullen finally said. He smiled his familiar, crooked grin as her eyes fell upon his. 

Evelyn returned his smile with one of her own, "Good morning."

Cullen set aside the parchment he was reading and gestured over to her desk. "I brought you some breakfast. I wanted to get you something before those vultures from Orlais gathered in the hall." 

Evelyn laughed and moved the covers aside to get out of bed. "Are you going to join me?" she asked. 

"Ah, I ate a little while I was in the kitchens, waiting for yours to be prepared." Cullen said, watching as she slipped into her lustrous cotton robe. He followed her as she made her way to her work space. 

"Oh!"

Cullen smirked confidently. That was the reaction he was hoping to gather from her. 

Evelyn bounced gleefully from foot to foot, "Maple sugar with frosted cream and nuts! Spiced black tea with orange slices... candied pears!" She gathered a bit of cream onto the tip of her finger and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes at the burst of flavor. "Mmmm..." she murmured, leaning her hips against her desk. "They remind me of home." Her dark eyes suddenly opened and she gave a curious look. "How... how did you know these were my favorite?"

Cullen shrugged nonchalantly, his face calm and innocent, "Just something I noticed about you, I guess." 

She grinned at him with sparkling eyes and turned to sample to fruit. Cullen observed Evelyn in her moment of candid happiness as she excitedly tried all of her treats. Now that Corypheus had been defeated, he had hoped there would finally be time to notice more about the woman he loved, who perhaps, one day, would consider becoming his wife. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I write for my own madness really, but if you enjoyed this, please let me know!
> 
> If you're a fan of Mass Effect, check out some of my other stories!
> 
> tumblr: @spectre-ro


End file.
